The Reckoning
by joshua.connors.50
Summary: 47 years of peace, democracy and and prosperity have been reward for Panem following the revolution. After 47 years, things are as perfect as they have ever been. With the Capitol destroyed and equality instated, an evil dictatorship seems impossible. Until a new, deadly enemy emerges and chaos ensues...
1. Chapter 1

It happened almost a year ago. One week until the day. 47 years after the revolution overthrew the Capitol, gave rights to the districts, gave way to an ancient system called democracy, and most importantly, ended the cruel annual event known as the Hunger Games. We lived in harmony, the 13 districts and the Capitol. Electing our own leaders as a nation. Panem. Each district, or state as they were renamed, responsible for a different trade. My state, known as Applecia manufactured medical goods. From bandaids to high tech surgical equipment. We made it. Once, we mined for coal, but coal isn't needed anymore. Not since District 13, now known as Albertia led the rebels to victory. No more Hunger Games. No more hunger. Open trade between districts, freedom to travel. Freedom to vote people in and out of leadership. We all got used to it. But like I said, it happened nearly a year ago. A week until the day.

Nobody saw it coming. It just happened. One day, things went bad. A streak through the sky trailed by smoke and then…boom. A huge cloud burst into the air. Fire. Smoke. Debris. It was all consuming . And just like that, Albertia was gone. Destroyed. Rubble and dirt. Communication was cut, no matter how hard we tried. 3 days later, the train arrived. We expected news, supplies. But instead, men and women carrying guns and dressed in white poured of the train and opened fire, shooting indiscriminately, people fell. I ran. I grabbed a little kid standing next to me and ran. I knew who they were, we've seen photos of them in school. Our own local police force was caught off guard, they tried to fight back, but they were overwhelmed. My brother was a police officer. There 100 of them in total. Police officers. They were all killed. Once the shooting stopped we were herded into the Square like cattle. We waited, standing for hours, guarded by the peacekeepers. Occasionally, someone made to leave, they taken to the front, stripped naked, whipped and then shot as an example. Then they brought them out. The bodies of the Police officers. To prove to us, our protectors were dead. They strung them up around the square for display. Shrieks and wails of despair were met with laughter from the peacekeepers.

A man took to the stage. He had a microphone and his face appeared on every screen. Camera crews, I didn't even see them arrive.

"My name is Head Peacekeeper Cloyton. This nation of Panem is back under the rightful control of its true leaders. The system of states is hereby abolished and series of districts has been reinstated. Likewise, the coal mines will reopen promptly. Those who defy the new rule will become miners as punishment." He finished the a glare at us. As though we were insects. Less than insects. Something disgusting. Not worthy of his time.

"Lies!" called an elderly man from the front. A peacekeeper promptly winded him with a blow to the stomach.

"Excellent! Our first miner! Take him, find his family and take them too."

Soon news started filtering through. It turns out, when the rebels took the control 47 years ago, they didn't know there was a secret Capitol facility located in what was once known as "area 51", even before what was once North America fell, it was top secret military base. In the 47 years since the taking of Panem, they've been planning for the re-installation of the old ways. It was swift. They'd been planting people in the Capitol for nearly 2 years. The day the missile hit 13, they'd blown up the Parliament. Killing the President and all the State Representatives. They quickly took vital infrastructure, communications, air force hangars, things of the sort. They had people in the military as well. So they took control of that. They radioed to 13 and told them there was a gas explosion and that the survivors were recovering. The people of 13 were assigned with the task of examine the layout of all the Capitols gas lines to determine the problem. Their attention was no longer on their radar screens. They didn't even see the missile coming. Boom. Gone.

Old laws were reintroduced, ones we didn't know about but were expected to follow. Soon the mines had a decent workforce. Katniss and Peeta were dragged from their homes, they didn't come without a fight, but they were far outnumbered. The whipped them in the square and left them in the stocks, naked for a week. The peacekeepers took it in turns to taunt them, commit unspeakable acts to them. All in public for us to see. Their children, adults now were forced to watch. The Capitol seems determined to show us the rallying point of the last revolution, is gone. Weak. Overpowered by the Capitol forces. On that same day, Cloyton announced it. The Hunger Games would recommence. The reaping would take place one week after the initial arrival of the Peacekeepers.

So here I am. Awake in my bed. The morning of the reaping. 


	2. Chapter 2

I stare up at the ceiling. I want to get up, to go for a walk. But it's forbidden. A curfew has been imposed. If you're found outside before whistle sounds in the morning, you earn yourself 50 lashings and a month in the mines. So I lay. Breathing slowly. Listening to the sounds of the birds. Finally, after what seems like hours, the whistle sounds. I get up and go outside. The sun is starting to show over the horizon now. The state, well, district, is unrecognizable. A large fence has been erected, charged with electricity to keep us in. Machine gun nests perch upon roof tops and in watch towers. Teams of peacekeepers patrol the streets, handing out punishments at random.

We have no electricity now. Just in the fence. And the factories that make the medical supplies. The mines have a few lights as well. But other than that, there's nothing. Food has become scarce. Each morning, the designated person from each house has to the Justice Building to collect the daily rations.

I walk aimlessly. Soon I'm confronted with a pungent smell. I look up to find myself in the square. The decimated body of my brother and his colleges still hang. A constant reminder. I want to run, to be sick. But I look around and see a team of Peacekeepers setting up for the reaping are watching me. I won't give them the satisfaction. I force myself to walk. Under the bodies. A maggot falls onto my shoulder. I brush it off. I keep walking until I'm at the front door. I knock twice. I see an eye peer out through the curtain and quickly disappear. The door opens.

"What are you doing here?!" she asks, "what if you were caught?" She demands as she pulls me over the threshold and slams the door.

"Cleo, relax, the curfew has been lifted for the day." I say calmly, sitting on the chair.

My sister frowns at me. "are you okay?" she asks. She means the reaping. She's 20, so she is exempt, that's also why she doesn't live with us. She's married.

"I'm fine." I lie.

Cleo looks at me, searching my face. I put on a fake smile. She doesn't buy it. I'm only 15, you see. Meaning my name will be in the reaping barrels this afternoon. "you can talk to me," she says, "I'll listen." She sits beside me.

For several long moments, I think. So many things are bothering me right now. I don't know where to start. The reaping? This prison known as District 12? The lack of food we've all been experiencing?

"I miss Jade." I say. "I want him back."

Cleo looks at me sadly. "I know sweetie…" she whispers, putting her arm around me. "I miss him too."

"I hate it. I hate walking past him every single day. Hanging there. Slowly hollowing out…why can't they just let us bury him?" I ask, already knowing the answer. To scare us.

"I don't know." Cleo says.

Before I know it, I'm standing. I open the door and leave without another word. This time I'm careful to avoid square. I go to the fence, humming rhythmically as electricity courses through it. I reach the gate, one about 20 placed around the fence. Before the Peacekeepers came, the fence was there only to keep wild animals out. We were free to leave whenever we liked. Now all the gates have been chained shut and 2 armed Peacekeepers stand watch over each entrance.

"You're in a forbidden area, twelver." Says one of the guards nastily. That's what they call us. No names. Just twelver.

"Go on!" says the other. "Who knows, maybe we'll get to see you up on stage in a few hours. How long do you reckon this one would last in the arena, hey Stuv?" He asks the other guard.

"Longer than both of you, I should think." A deep male voice comes from my left, form what was once called the Victors Village. Peeta. He limps down the hill, still bearing the marks of his punishment.

The second guards mouth twists into a snarl. "Clear out! You're in a forbidden area, I should think you wouldn't want a repeat of the last week, who knows, maybe we can fit you in somewhere on live television."

"Possible. But not likely. It'd make for bad publicity you see, they're already taking down the bodies from the Square. Besides, unlike you, I was present at the Reapings before the revolution. If they're anything like they were, you'll be hard pressed to find time to fit in a few extra words let alone a lashing." Peeta stares at the guards, they look furious that he's called their bluff.

"Clear out! The pair of you!" Shouts the one named Stuv. That's an order, twelvers!"

Peeta and I walk back to the main road. "Go home." He says, "spend some time with your family. The Reaping isn't for a few hours, yet." He looks sadly down at me, surely wondering if I'll be the one he has to mentor in just a few hours.

"The bodies, from the Square…" I begin to ask, but my words catch and I find myself unable to speak.

Peeta looks at me. "They're being cremated They can't have them there when the camera crews arrive." Still looking, more gently now, he adds. "did you know any of them?"

My words begin to come back, slowly, broken. "My brother…Jade…police…" I say lamely.

Peeta's eyes fill my own, I can see sadness in them. "I'm sorry," he says. "Your brother was a very brave man."

Now my words come flooding back. Hot, fast and angry. "I'll kill them! All of them! I'll rip them apart, limb from limb! For Jade, for the rest! For you! For those in mines! I'll kill them all!"

Peeta grips my shoulders firmly. "You have a strong spirit. Like your brother. Like people I fought alongside in the Revolution. It's admirable. But your brother sacrificed his life. I'm sure you were at the front of his mind. Don't make his sacrifice be in vein by getting yourself shot."

"You don't know what it's like!" I find myself shouting at Peeta now. "He was my brother!"

"I know. And I know what it's like. At the start of the revolution…District 12 was fire bombed. My whole family was burned alive. Katniss, my wife, she watched her sister get burned alive in the Capitol. I know what it's like."

"But you fought." I say quietly.

"No, I was captured. Tortured in the Capitol. It was a long time before I was fighting. You'll get your chance, I'm sure of it. Now go home."

Peeta turns and walks away, towards his old house in the Victors Village. Stunned, I don't know what to think. I find myself feeling ashamed. For yelling. I'd never met Peeta before this point. And the first thing he did was save me from trouble. Risk his own safety, for me. He didn't even know me. I head home.

The walk is short, but feels a lot longer. I push the door open and find myself locked in my mother's arms. My Father sits at the table. Trying to turn the days rations into a decent meal. It's hard work, but my father usually manages. I sit in silence for the rest of the day. Waiting for the reaping. Scared. For myself. For my friends. We don't want to die. We don't want to kill either. It's 1:45. I stand and walk to the door. My mother and father silently flanking me on both sides. We walk to the Square. Parts of it have been sectioned off, different sections for different ages. A peacekeeper asks my age and shepherds me off to be with the other 15 year old boys. We stand silently. Not knowing exactly what to do.

The stage at the front of the Square has 4 chairs on it. They're all occupied. Head Peacekeeper Cloyton, Katniss, Peeta and weird looking woman I've never seen before. She has an eggplant purple afro wig and her makeup makes her look as white as ghost.

Somewhere, a bell strikes two. Instantly, the screens light up. It shows a crowd, not us. A happy crowd. Excited. The Capitol people have been treated well. Just like before. They now live in luxury while we live in poverty. The screen pulls back and shows two men at a desk. One in a vibrant red suit with green hair and lips, the other in a dark blue suit with matching hair.

"Welcome!" The one in the red says happily to the camera. "What a very exciting day this is! The first Hunger Games in over 47 years and it promises to be one of the best!"

"That it does Cloud," says them man in the blue. "The Game Makers have been working for 2 years to plan these Games, ready to put in place the second proper leadership was restored!"

"Of course! Do we have any titbits about what these Games might hold?" Asks Cloud.

"Alas, the Game makers have been very tight lipped on that issue, but like I said, it promises to be very exciting! However, we have one moment of sadness before the excitement begins. Across the nation today, we'll be holding a minutes silence for those great people who perished in the rebellion. Claudius Templesmith, Caesar Flickerman, President Snow, all of whom were executed by those barbaric rebels. There are many more of course, too many to mention by name, so, let us get this sad moment behind us."

Silence rings. After around 20 seconds a man from crowd calls out "shame on you!" Bang. He falls to the ground. A woman shrieks. Bang. She falls too. When the minute ends, the announcers speak excitedly again. "Now! Without further ado, lets hand over to District 12 for the reaping!"

Tension fills the crowd. The odd woman stands up, adjusting her hair. "Ladies and Gentlemen! My name is Tileen Fargun! It is my honour to be the escort of District 12 for the 76th Hunger Games! Ladies first!" She says with a simper. She puts her hand into the barrel and draws a name. Opening the envelope, the reads out the name.

"Rose Greenwood!"

Rose walks…slowly to the stage. She's not a friend. But I know her, I've worked with her in school. She's nice. One of the nicest people you'll meet. She looks confused, dazed, as though she doesn't really know what's going on.

"Excellent!" Says Trileen. "Now, let's see who you'll be sharing this joy with!" Trileen adds, as though this is a special treat for which we should all be grateful. She puts her hand into the second barrel, fishing around for an envelope until she has found one she is happy with. She pulls it out and unfolds it, leaning towards the microphone she calls in a high, clear voice; "Joseph Birch!"

I stand frozen. I don't move. "Joseph Birch!" She calls again. It's me. It's my name. No. This can't be real. It isn't happening. Before I know it, I'm on the stage, not quite sure how I got here. Trileen beams at us, as though she has never seen anything as fine.

"Ecxellent!" She proclaims. "Now, it has come the time, if there is anyone, who wishes to claim the honour and privilege of representing your District in these most prestigious of Games, your time to Volunteer is now!" Trileen has barely finished when a voice calls from the back, "Me! I volunteer! For Joseph! Please, I volunteer!" Cleo comes running up between the crowed, panting, she climbs the steps to the stage.

"Now dear," says Trileen in a patronising voice that one might adopt when explaining a very simple concept to a 4 year old. "It is wonderful that want to represent your District, but we must send a boy and a girl!"

"Her then, I volunteer for her! I'll go in with him." Begs Cleo.

"Cleo…no…" I begin, but I don't get to finish.

"This competition is only open to District Citizens between the ages of 12 and 18. Your age, please?" Cloyton has stepped in now.

"I…I'm 18." Lies Cleo, but you can see in her eyes, she knows she's been caught.

Silently, Cloyton pulls out a small device, he roughly takes me sisters hand and places her thumb on a glass panel. Almost instantly, the words show up. _"Cleo Dayfen, District 12, 20." _With a shake of his head, 2 peacekeepers drag my sister away, I try to run after her but a third pulls me back. I can't even find my words. Looking dishevelled and confused, Trileen starts addressing the crowd again.

"Wonderful! Just wonderful!" says Trileen, regaining her composure. "Ladies and gentleman, I give you, the Tributes from District 12!" She begins clapping but quickly stops when she sees no one else is joining her. "Now, as an added announcement, we have another special treat! The Capitol has decided, considering the popularity off the affect in the last games and to give the Districts something more to hope for, the tributes from each District, if they so choose, may work as a team and, if they are the last pair remaining, claim joint victory at the end of the Games! May the odds be _ever_ in your favour!"

At that moment, I feel a light fire up inside me. Hope spring. I look at Rose and we allow ourselves a small smile. Our chances of survival have just doubled. I look at the crowd, the faces of the young reflect ours, hopeful. Oddly, the older citizens of the District scowl and glare, even harder than before.

I have no time to process my confusion. All of a sudden I'm being shepherded towards the Justice Building. From what the older Citizens have told me, this is the part where the Tributes say goodbye to the ones they love. I'm not prepared for this. What if I cry? What if I don't? I'm confused again. What's going on?

We walk up the stone steps and through a corridor, then left, then right, right again and then left. I try to keep track, but it's impossible. I wonder how the Peacekeepers know where they're going, considering they haven't been here long. I've never been in the Justice Building; I've never had reason to. Under different circumstances, I might think it was a beautiful piece of art and architecture. The magnificent sweeping staircases. The detailed tapestries that appear to depict battles long since won or lost. Portraits and busts of people I don't know. If I had time to hang around, I'd stop and read the small paragraphs below each picture or bust. Yes, if I wasn't being dragged off to death and murder…I'd find this building quite beautiful. Rose and I walk side by side, our new guards behind us. After what feels like more than 10 minutes of walking in circles, I begin to suspect they are trying to disorientate us. Finally, we are taken off into separate rooms.

"Wait here." Says my guard in monotonous, almost bored voice.

I sit on a plush chair. I sink right in. In a far off section of my mind, I vaguely notice how immensely comfortable it is. I start thinking. What's ahead? I've never actually seen a Hunger Games. All I know is that they make an arena, put us in it and then we fight to the death. Last person standing, wins. Well, last team this year. I try to recall everything we ever learnt about them in History at school. There are usually weapons. Swords, knives, maybe a bow and arrow. I've never used any of those things. What else? Some supplies. Water, clothes, ropes and so forth. Our teacher told us where they're all found. What was it called again? The Corn of Hope? No, that's not right. I never paid much attention when we were learning about the Hunger Games. I always thought it was too horrible to think about. I begin to curse myself. People were once forced to watch this. And I couldn't even learn about it. That's it, I think. I'm done. I'm never coming back. These will be my final goodbyes.

The doors open. I look up and see my mother and father walk into the room. My mother hurries over to me and flings her arms around me. My father soon joins and hugs us both.

"You come back to us, okay?" My mother pleads, barely holding back tears.

"You can do it, Joseph." Says my father. "play to your strengths , before the games, for the judges and other Tributes, exaggerate your weaknesses…above all…remember that your mother and I love you and…we're so incredibly proud of you."

"Rose should be a good ally. I know her parents. She has some skills that should help you both. Come back and bring her with you. We love you!"

I avoid their eyes. Ashamed of myself. How could I even think of giving up? My family has already lost one son. I can't condemn them to lose another. I have to come back. My mother can't bear to lose another son. In the same part of mind that registered the comfortable chair, I realise that by deciding I have a chance, is condemning 22 other mothers and fathers to losing their sons and daughters. I push the thought away. I can't afford to think like that anymore.

"Where's Cleo?" I ask, looking at the door.

"Stocks." Says my father simply, as though trying not to think about it. It occurs to me even more what my parents are going through. One son dead. One on the way to fight and probably die. Their daughter locked in the stocks, facing who knows what over the course of her punishment.

The doors open again and the guards come in.

"Mum…dad…" I think fast, not knowing what to say, "I love you…thank you…for everything…thank you…I love you." In later life, I'll probably look back and scold myself for giving my parents such a terrible goodbye, well, if I have a later life. But there were more pressing things to worry about right now. The guards come and collect me. We walk back through the maze of corridors and rooms, again, I try to remember, left, right, right, right, left again, left, straight, down the stairs, up the stairs, left. But it's impossible. Again, I find myself lost in my own lack of direction. Finally, we reach the entrance hall. Trileen and Rose are already there. Rose still a little confused about what's happened. To her credit though, she doesn't look as though she's been crying. Trileen just looks positively excited.

We're escorted out of the building by Peacekeepers and pushed into the back seat of the car. Rose and I sit apart with Trileen in the middle. I steal a glance at Rose. She's looking out of the window, no doubt believing that this will be her last look at our home. I quickly look away. As we pass through the main town, I begin to remember things. There, on the rock by the War Memorial, I scrapped my knee when I was 5 years old. I cried so much that my brother carried me home. And there, under that big tree, I had my first kiss when I was 12 years old. And here…the Peacekeepers stormed out of the train…gunning down everyone in their path. A different kind of train is at the station now. One I've only ever seen in photos. It's long, narrow and sleek. A speed train. I suddenly remember, for the next week or so, I'm a celebrity. I get to live it up in pure luxury. Good, I think to myself. I know what foods are needed for weight gain and muscle growth. I'll order them. All the time, I'll eat like crazy so I have extra muscle and strength. And of course, so that losing it in the arena won't be so detrimental.

We board the train silently and walk down behind Trileen until we reach the dining car.

Rose lets out a small gasp of surprise. I hardly contain my own. The room is even more elaborately decorated than the Justice Building. Tapestries and statues. Carved chairs and tables. A large portrait of an old man with a fluffy grey beard dominates one wall. I recognise it immediately. President Snow, the last dictator of Panem. Executed by the rebels years ago. A caption beneath reads "_In loving memory of President Coriolanus Snow; Hero of Panem." _ I feel sick. Are we truly going to be made to mourn these people? Our enemies? I begin to hate these new leaders even more. Part of me even wishes that I fought in the Revolution all those years ago, or that maybe, we could start another one now. That's ridiculous of course. The Nation is in disarray. People can't even organise themselves, let alone anyone else. I begin to think of the names of key rebels who were still alive. A man named Haymitch had died a few years ago, there was a national funeral and day of mourning held in his honour. Who else? Plutarch Heavensby. An elderly man, a former Gamemaker who was the architect of the revolution. He appeared on TV every year, when we celebrated Freedom Day, the day the revolution was won. Would he be allowed to live on? He lived in the Capitol, did he escape? Someone else…Gale Hawthorne. He'd been one of the faces of the revolution. Afterwards, he went on the become State Representative for 2. But then, all the Reps had been killed in the explosion at the Capitol. So that ruled him out. Then it dawns on me. Katniss and Peeta. Our Mentors. They were both key figures in the revolution. What will they think?

"If you plan on standing there the entire ride, I suggest you move out of the way, you're blocking the food." A voice from behind rings in my ears.

I turn and find myself face to face with Katniss Everdeen. I've seen her on TV. Killing people, when she was much younger of course. In the Arena. In the Revolution. She looked so fierce. The Victor of 2 Hunger Games. The Mockingjay. But now, she looks like anyone else. Just an aged woman. Normal, if not a little detached from emotion, but when I think about it, who could really blame her?

"Before you say what we know you are going to say," whispers Peeta, who, evidently, is standing behind Katniss. "The answer is no. You'll get yourselves, your families and us killed. Also, try to remember that we are probably been recorded right now. Act…normal."

How did he know what I was thinking? Did they have the very same thoughts when they first set foot on the train? And normal? What the hell was normal right now? Well, I guess I am a little hungry, and the chicken does look good.

I move forward and sit down, reaching out and filling a bowl with rice and chicken with an orange sauce. I scoop it into my mouth. If it looks nice, it's nothing on how it tastes. It's indescribable. We've never really gone hungry back home, but we've never had food like this either. I begin reaching forward and taking spoonfuls of everything, not wanting to miss a thing.

"So, I assume you 2 will be working as a team?" Asks Peeta, looking at us over a glass of orange juice. I glance over at Rose, she's looking at the food as though not quite sure what to do. She seems to spend a lot of time being confused, I note.

"Of course." I say, after choking down half a small bird.

"Good. Any special skills we should know about?" Asks Katniss, looking at us up and down.

I steal another glance at Rose. She's opening and closing her mouth, she doesn't appear to know what skills would apply here. "She's a gymnast." I say, pointing to Rose. It's true, after all. "She made it all the way to the national championships."

"Gymnastics? Certainly useful, good for evasion, can be adapted to fight." Peeta turns to me now. "what about you?"

"Well, we're both trained in advanced first aid." With all the medical supplies being supplied by us, it was the natural course to train us how to use them. Most of the doctors in Panem are from 12. "Nothing else, really. I do pretty well at athletics. My brother taught me how to fight. Just some basic grapples, kicks and punches and such."

"And darts. You won the darts competition at school every year." Says Rose, I turn to her and she quickly looks down at her plate, as though worried she has said the wrong thing. This girl can't even speak without being scared…how is she going to kill anyone? I understand now, all the killing is going to be done by me.

"Yeah, well I doubt there'll be a dart throwing competition in the Arena." I say, wondering what darts could possibly have to do with anything.

"No, but there might be darts. And…here, throw this knife." Katniss hands a steak knife to me.

"Huh?" I ask, "At what?"

Katniss looks round, she looks at the walls, covered in the face of the late President Snow. "There." She says, indicating one of the tapestries.

I pick the knife up, the wait is about the same, I'll have to throw differently though. I hold it by the handle and then by the blade, wondering which will be best. I decide the blade. I pinch it between two fingers and rest if on my palm. Raising it above and behind my head, I fling it forward with all the force I can muster. To my great surprise, the knife hits with a dull thud and sticks. Right between the eyes. I smile to myself, still not quite sure if it actually happened.

"Excellent! Reminds me of our first trip on the train." Says Peeta. "Between the two of you, you might just win this thing."

"What was it like?" I ask. "Was it really as bad as they describe it in school? Last time these people were in charge I mean."

Peeta and Katniss exchange a look, a though not quite sure what to say. It's Peeta who speaks first, slowly, but gradually faster. Katniss soon joins in. They tell tales of starvation, murder and torture. Some we've learnt at school. Most we haven't. Like walking among the charred remains after the Capitol bombed 12 all those years ago. Watching friends get whipped into submission. Seeing children slowly die from lack of food on the streets. The fact that the meadow in which children play every day…is actually a mass grave for the people who once inhabited District 12. I feel sickened. I make my plan now. I must get out of this alive. Rose and I. I have to kill anyone who gets in my way. I must get out. I have a plan now. I eat everything within reach. When I'm full beyond belief, I force myself to eat more. I need more weight. As much as I can get. When the meal is over, I go t my room. I hardly even notice the luxury of it as I fall to the ground and begin doing push ups. As many as I can and even more. I quickly roll over and start sits up. My arms and abdomen scream in protest. But I ignore both and keep working. After an hour of this, I return to the meal table. There's bread set out. I take a few pieces and continue to eat, taking a knife back to me room. I practice throwing it, it seems my first throw was a fluke. It's harder now, to get the knife to stick. After an hour and half, I think I have the hang of it. I drop the knife and start fighting with the air. Punching, kicking, falling and rolling.


End file.
